


Rebuilding Confidence

by BlackHunter666



Series: The Many Adventures of the 796th Star Corps [8]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Minor Angst, new start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3838270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackHunter666/pseuds/BlackHunter666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the 796th Star Corps, there was the 662nd Legion. Hunter survived hell as a Lieutenant and was returned to Coruscant, expecting to be joined by the only other survivors of the massacre. Instead, he is confronted with no answers, no real empathy and a brand new General pushing for his acceptance. Hunter doesn't want a new posting, or a big promotion but he's got now choice. Now he just needs to survive the wild ways of the 796th and try to pull a fighting force out of this rabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuilding Confidence

Almost an entire Legion destroyed in minutes. Three survivors, a huge failure by any definition. I was supposed to be in command. I was meant to be able to turn the tides of the battle. But instead I heaped failure upon failure until only three remained. My brothers died for a planet that no one gives two feks about. How many times have we gone back to that damned dustbowl and lost more than we gained? How many times have our brothers died there, doomed to haran because no one cares? This was the third or forth time and I guarantee that nothing changed! Nothing ever changes on that forsaken world.

I don't even care that the General survived. Sure, I should take some comfort from that fact. But I can only think of the brothers I lost. My shinnies, brave lads they were. My veteran troopers, the lucky survivors of battles without end. My Sergeants, bold soldiers and loving brothers all. My fellow Lieutenants, each one still adapting to the rank but ready to fight for our brothers. My Captains, hard men but fair to all their juniors. My junior Commanders, distance but still present when someone needed help. And my Commander, Reaper, the best and bravest of us all. He'd already seen Geonosis but he led us back with a defiant yell. He would not back down and we took comfort from that.

I never asked to be the last officer on that bloody desert! I never wanted to witness Reaper's death, feeling his cold fingers on my cheek as he left us! I didn't ask for this promotion! I was happy as a Lieutenant; I trusted my superiors and had the love of my subordinates. I wasn't ready to take full command. I'm still not ready. And this? This is the greatest fekking insult to the 662nd Legion. This spits on the honour of my brothers! This proves just how fekked up this whole war is! A fekking bravery medal! For what? Being unlucky enough to survive the mass murder of my brothers! General Gallia is clueless; she never cared to know us as anything more than cannon fodder!

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Returning to his small room within the Coruscant Guard barracks, Hunter yanked off his boots and released his dress belt. Opening his tunic and slipping it off, he ripped off his undershirt and sagged onto his narrow cot. Bowing his head, fingers raking through his longish hair, Hunter couldn't stop the agonised sob that slipped from his throat. He felt raw and broken; his wounds prodded and poked every time he stepped outside this room.

It had only been two weeks since the massacre, just two short weeks since he'd lost everyone he'd ever cared about. Three survivors and now he didn't even know what had happened to Lark and Wiz. They had been with him on the transport back to Coruscant but he had been taken away from them when they arrived on Coruscant. Some osik about officers getting treatment at a different facility. But if that was the case, why wouldn't anyone tell him the latest news about his two remaining men? He had asked time and time again but all the medical staff would say was that he should focus on his own situation and not worry about them.

Shuffling back onto his cot, slumping against the wall and hugging his knees to his chest, Hunter bowed his head and wept helplessly. He hurt, physically, mentally and emotionally, but no one understood his pains. His wounds had already been healed but the scars pulled and reminded him constantly of the final battle for the 662nd. He'd passed his psyche evaluations and been proven fit for service but no one understood the deep agony of losing so many precious brothers and friends. No one here could understand how much it hurt to hold their beloved close and watch the light fade from his eyes. No one here had lost anywhere near as much as Hunter had in one atrocious battle.

Reaper had been more than just a Commander, more than a brave soldier who gave his life for the shabla Republic. More than anyone could truly understand. But Hunter couldn't say anything about that pain, not unless he wanted a trip to Kamino to be the end of his career. To love a brother was a hidden secret; the Jetiise would punish anyone who did such a thing. That just made it harder for Hunter to move on. He couldn't even grieve for Reaper properly; he could only play the part of a saddened Lieutenant, not an agonised lover.

Turning his face away from the door, Hunter stroked his fingers over the scythe tattooed on his left cheek, the last tangible reminder of all he'd shared with Reaper. The last reminder of the private memories of the sweetest, most giving man Hunter had ever known. No one else would mean as much to Hunter as Reaper had, their love had sustained them both through so much.  
'Reaper…dear Reaper.' Hunter choked, fingers digging into the fresh scarring on his jaw line.

The flash of pain helped Hunter to focus but it also reminded him of the burning agony he had faced and survived. Wrenching his hand away, Hunter heaved to his feet and started to pace his room, fingers clenching at his hair as he tried to come up with a plan. He'd already started to grow it out, wanting to be more like Reaper but now he wasn't so sure what he wanted. He doubted he would ever get away with a haircut like Reaper's, as much as he wanted it.

Gaze caught by the bravery medal he'd been insulted with; Hunter screamed as he snatched it up and flung it with all his might at the wall. He'd expected to hear a sharp ping as it hit the wall but instead he heard a rustle of cloth and a duller thunk. Turning slowly, Hunter's eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he gazed upon another of the Jedi. Hunter recognised him instantly and gulped, wondering just how much trouble he was in now.  
'General Fisto.' Hunter nodded, snapping to attention.  
'As you were, Commander.' Fisto replied, tossing the medal back to Hunter. 'I take no offence for you throwing that at me with such force.'  
'No offence was intended, Sir.' Hunter nodded, catching the medal and shoving it in his pocket.  
'I hear you're in need of a new company.' Fisto smiled, entering the room and letting the door slide closed behind him. 'I'm sorry about the 662nd.'  
'Don't…you didn't know them so don't pretend you did.' Hunter spat, turning away from the Nautolan. 'I don't need a new company; I should have died with my men. I dishonour them with every breath.'  
'I find that hard to believe, Commander.' Fisto remarked, moving behind Hunter.  
'Lieutenant, my Commander is dead.' Hunter corrected, not looking at the General. 'I am only a Lieutenant, five weeks into my commission.'  
'That's not what your file says.' Fisto noted; a smug tone in his voice.  
'To haran with my file!' Hunter snapped, whirling to face the General. 'An entire Legion massacred on the orders of a Jedi! Only three of us got off the haran-birthed death trap! Now I can't get a straight fekking answer about the fate of my two remaining men. I don't want another company! I don't want new men! And I sure as haran don't want some other arrogant Jedi to tear apart my men before my eyes!'

Panting hard, Hunter tossed the bravery medal down by his feet and stalked into the 'fresher. Closing and locking the door, he slumped down on the cold floor and sagged back against the door. It wasn't soundproof by any means but it was better than looking at that Jedi in his room for a moment longer.   
'I know what happened to your men, Hunter.' Fisto offered, footsteps dull against the floor. 'Let me in and I will tell you.'  
'I don't care for more Jedi lies.' Hunter replied, shifting against the door. 'Why can't you just leave me in peace so I can join my men in blissful darkness?'  
'You are alive because you still have a purpose, Hunter.' Fisto sighed, a muffled thump indicating that he'd settled on the other side of the door. 'Wiz and Lark were put on a rapid transport to Kamino. I only know because I am trying to refill my ranks and was willing to offer them a place in the 796th Star Corps. By now they're probably finished with reconditioning and have been dispatched elsewhere to new units with no idea of the history of their newest recruits.'  
'Reconditioned?' Hunter uttered, a shudder running down his spine. 'They were all I had left of the 662nd Legion.'  
'I wish I could get them back for you, Hunter, but even I have no idea where they ended up.' Fisto offered, a faint thrum of acceptance and sorrow in his voice.  
'Even tattoo descriptions won't help. It's part of the process, all identifying marks are removed.' Hunter nodded, shuddering at the thought of what his boys had been forced to endure. 'So now I truly am the last of the 662nd.'  
'And you are faced with a heavy choice. Accept your new rank and take up a posting at the head of the 796th or you'll be on a fast transport to Kamino for reconditioning as well.' Fisto warned, a pained note in his voice. 'Think it over, I'll come see you again in a few days.'

Hearing the sound of his door sliding closed again, Hunter waited a few moments before unlocking the 'fresher door and stepping out. His room was empty, but he could see a datapad on his cot that hadn't been there before the visit. Oddly, he couldn't see the bravery medal on the floor…oh, the General had dared to pick it up and stick it on the metal rail along the wall. Snatching it down, Hunter tossed it down and kicked it under the second cot in the room. Trying to get his mind off that disgusting medal, Hunter picked up the stray datapad on his cot and clicked it on. Instantly he was assaulted with the names and numbers of the men in the 796th and he shut it off, tossing it onto the second cot and slumping down again.

Curling up on his bunk, Hunter didn't bother trying to stop the tears that fell. He was trapped and he knew it. The General could have easily ordered him onto the next fast transport to Kamino for his outburst but he hadn't done it. Instead he'd calmly given answers that no one else would and accepted Hunter's anger without hesitation. He'd worded it like a choice but Hunter knew it wasn't a choice. Suicide was taboo among clones, his reputation and the legend of the 662nd would die with him if he ended his life. He couldn't do that to his lads, not after all they had done for him. He had no choice but to live for them all and wait for the day when a choice on the battlefield could reunite him with his lads. Hopefully when death came for Wiz and Lark, they would be reunited with the 662nd, their reconditioning forgotten in death.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Four days later, Hunter barely glanced up when his door slid open and General Fisto entered once again. Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Hunter continued working on the new designs for his armour as the General entered and leant against the wall as the door closed.  
'Am I to assume that you've made your choice?' Fisto asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.  
'Was there really a choice? One way or another, you were getting a new Commander. Didn't really matter if I wanted it or not.' Hunter sighed, not looking up from the scale pattern he was painting on his rerebraces.  
'That's not true, Hunter. Had you truly been against joining the 796th, I would not have pushed.' Fisto corrected, coming closer and gazing at the armour. 'A rather interesting design choice.'  
'It's a little late to say you don't like it.' Hunter shrugged, finishing the last scale and putting the piece aside to dry. 'You're the one who decided to play dirty. I read the troop listing you left behind. Doesn't take an officer to see that you've got a mess on your hands.'  
'I was merely making an observation, I like the design.' Fisto chuckled, resting one hand on the table. 'I did not want you stepping into your new position blindly, so I left the personnel files on every man in the 796th for you.'  
'And like a good officer, I read as many as I could.' Hunter nodded, picking up his helmet and getting back to the new design he'd created. 'But just so we understand, I'm doing this my way. I'm not going to bow to your every whim, not after what happened to the 662nd. I will push you, I will question you behind closed doors and I will stop you if you risk the wellbeing of the men.'  
'I would expect nothing less.' Fisto replied, sinking down on the second cot. 'I do not see your bravery medal hanging up.'  
'I gave it to someone far more deserving. Poor kid died protecting a local family, figured he deserved a little recognition.' Hunter replied, not looking up from his work. 'It was an insult to me and to the 662nd but he treasured for the few minutes he lived with it in his hand.'

Falling quiet, Hunter finished the design on his helmet and set it aside carefully. He still had a little bit to do before he was totally happy with the design but for now it could wait until he was alone again.  
'I've been wondering why you have a Corps full of broken men, honestly. Depression, PTSD, medical mysteries and all the rest of it. 80 percent of the files I read shouldn't even be on active service. Some should never have even left Kamino in the first place.' Hunter remarked, shaking his head slowly as he settled back in his chair.  
'Because I believe that everyone deserves a second chance. The 796th is unconventional but our combat stats speak for our successes.' Fisto nodded, shifting against the wall and holding out a datapad. 'I'm just waiting for your agreement to the positing and we can commence our partnership. I have been struggling to maintain full control without a competent officer.'  
'I can't promise I'll be a good as your last Commander but I'll certainly try. I won't let the 796th walk into a massacre.' Hunter sighed, taking the datapad and reading through the Change of Command documents. 'And just so we're clear, I'll die by my own hand before I ever step foot on Geonosis again. It was hard enough to go back there for the second time, I won't return for a third time.'  
'I understand completely. Read down a little further, I made a point of putting that into this Change of Command document. Part of our agreement is that the 796th will never see service on Geonosis or any other desert world.' Fisto explained, moving closer and pointing out a new paragraph slotted into the standard document.  
'Well, maybe things will work out okay between us, General.' Hunter grinned, his eyes full of pain still but he was trying to make progress.

Putting his number and name at the bottom of the document, hunter transferred a copy to his own command pad and handed the General his much more advanced pad. Within seconds, Hunter's helmet let out a sharp ping and he nodded, carefully picking up his helmet and tapping at the response button beside his command chip.  
'Well, there's no backing out now General. The orders have already been confirmed.' Hunter noted, setting his helmet down again. 'When do we depart?'  
'Can you be ready in the morning? I have received a new mission and we must leave as soon as possible.' Fisto offered, meeting Hunter's gaze.  
'I can be ready to go in an hour, Sir. I've got nothing tying me here, most of my gear has been packed since our first meeting and the paint is mostly dry.' Hunter shrugged, looking around his room. 'Didn't try to make friends, wasn't hard to see no one here cared for my losses.'  
'Very well. I will call for our shuttle and wait on the forecourt for you.' Fisto agreed, turning and leaving the room.  
'Hunter, you di'kut.' Hunter groaned, getting up and starting to pack his few remaining belongings and preparing to ship out.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Stepping off the transport, his new duffle over his shoulder and his old, purple stained duffle in his hand, hunter looked around slowly at the activity on the hanger deck. He's specifically asked the General not to make a fuss of his arrival, he wanted a chance to see normal behaviour before his position was recognised by the men. Their reactions would be tainted if they knew about him before he arrived.

In all honesty, Hunter wasn't impressed by what he was seeing. The men were all over the place, lounging around in half their armour and some were in just their bodysuits. Dozens of conversations echoed around him, making his highly sensitive ears ache just a little. But each man was marked with the turquoise of the 796th, a good start as far as Hunter was concerned. Now he just had to wait and see how long it would take for the men to realise he was on deck and respond accordingly.

Five minutes standing still and finally someone realised they had a new officer on deck. He straightened and went to slap his helmet on but it slipped from his fingers and bounced across the deck. Hunter resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the trooper started shoving his brothers aside as he chased his helmet. Clicking across the deck, the helmet started to roll and Hunter lifted one foot to catch it. Shifting and hooking it with his toes, he flipped it up and caught it in his free hand.

The only marking on the bucket was a big zero painted across the facial area. Rather minimal and confusing, Hunter was used to broader markings and lots of details. Tipping the helmet over, he read the name engraved inside and one eyebrow shot up in concern and confusion.  
'Null!' Hunter called, bringing the trooper's attention to him. 'Next time, try not to lose your bucket. Never know when the enemy is aiming for your head.'  
'Y-yes Sir! Thank you Sir.' Null replied, sliding to a stop before Hunter and snapping to attention. 'It won't happen again, Sir.'  
'I certainly hope not, Null.' Hunter nodded, reaching out and dropping the bucket onto Null's head. 'Back to duty with you, Null.'  
'Yes Sir.'

Returning to scanning the hanger, Hunter sighed as the men started to pay more attention to him. But paying more attention to him meant they were paying less attention to their surroundings and that could be dangerous. Two men carrying crates of supplies crashed into each other, splitting open the crates and spilling what appeared to be spare parts for their weapons and helmet components across the deck. Such delicate pieces, they shattered as they hit the deck, creating total carnage around the two stunned troopers.  
'Get it cleaned up, lads. No point stressing over destroyed components now.' Hunter directed, forcing down his frustrations.  
'right away Sir.' one of the men replied, scrambling up and running to fetch the cleaning equipment as his companion started picking up the larger pieces and putting them in some empty crates some of the other men carried over.

Trying to ignore the headache already forming, Hunter lifted his gaze to scan the fighters again and felt his heart stop when he saw one of the pilots stumble and fall from the raised wingtip of his Torrent. Adrenaline kicking in hard, Hunter dumped his gear and ran, digging deep into his reserves and charging through the stunned brothers. Ignoring the shouts for a medical team to be called, Hunter skidded and braced his feet, arms up to catch his brother.

Grunting with the impact, Hunter dropped to his knees and held his brother close, breathing hard as he looked down into wide grey eyes. Nodding slowly, Hunter smiled and ran his fingers through soft hair dyed with turquoise streaks. One life didn't mean much to most but to Hunter, each one was a precious reminder of his new start.  
'You okay, vod?' Hunter asked, relaxing his grip a little.  
'I am, Sir.' he replied, slumping into hunter with a sigh. 'Thank you for being there for me, Sir.'  
'I might be new to the Corps, but I'm not about to let one of my lads get hurt if there's anything I can do.' Hunter grinned, relieved that they were both unharmed. 'What's your name, trooper?'  
'Cuking, Sir. One of my batch-mates had a speech impediment and that's what he would call me, I have no idea what he really meant.'  
'Cuking…no, I can't translate it either.' Hunter chuckled, helping Cuking to his feet and getting up slowly. 'Try to be more careful, I won't always be here to catch you.'  
'I know Sir and I will.' Cuking nodded, snapping to attention and saluting proudly. 'It will be an honour to serve under you, Sir.'  
'We'll see, Cuking, we'll see.' Hunter chuckled, returning the salute and walking away.

Still watching the men as he headed back towards the General and picked up his bags, Hunter honestly didn't know what to make of the 796th. On one hand, the men seemed loyal and eager to fight but Hunter could feel a lingering darkness around the hanger. He didn't know exactly what it meant but he didn't like it.  
'Sir, I'd like to revise my thoughts on this Corps.' Hunter remarked, jaw dropping as he watched two of the mechanics start throwing punches. 'This isn't a fighting Corps, or a medical centre. It's a fekking asylum.'  
'You only say that because you do not yet truly know these men.' Fisto chuckled, looking around slowly. 'This is a fairly normal day.'  
'Maker help me, we're screwed.' Hunter groaned, shouldering his new bag and looking at the General. 'With your permission, I'll go get settled in my quarters.'  
'Of course, Commander.' Fisto replied, turning and walking away.

Adjusting his burden so it wasn't digging in as much, Hunter sighed as he headed for the exit, passing close to the brawling mechanics. Really, he should have put an end to it but he was already drained and had a feeling that if he stopped the fight, he'd only have to deal with another, bigger mess. He'd had enough of the antics of this disaster of a Corps, he definitely didn't want to know how much worse it could get.

Jumping when something heavy bounced off his shoulder and spun into the brawling men, hunter spun and reached for one pistol, instincts pushing him to respond to the threat. But instead of a threat, he as faced with a wide-eyed, blushing trooper with a Senior Mechanic marking on his chest plate  
'I meant no offence Sir. But when it comes to dealing with Spanner and Carud, it's best to throw something when they start brawling. I have scars from the last time I go between them.'  
'I'm going to die surrounded by the biggest idiots in the galaxy.' Hunter groaned, ignoring the two men on the ground and stalking out of the hanger.

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Returning to his quarters after a long half-day getting to know the men of the 796th, Hunter stripped off his armour and set it up on the rack neatly before dropping down at his desk and burying his face in his hands. He honestly wasn't sure what to make of this Corps, he couldn't get a solid read on their style while everyone was bickering like this. They were a disaster just waiting to get blown to pieces but Hunter couldn't face that thought.

Rubbing at his temples to try and ease his pounding headache, Hunter groaned as his door chime sounded. He was sorely tempted to ignore his visitor and go to bed but he had to make a good impression on the men. Easing to his feet, he padded back across his quarters and opened the door. He just hoped whoever had come calling didn't realise just how much pain Hunter was in right now. He was supposed to be a strong leader but right now he wanted to break down again.

Bracing one hand on the doorframe so he didn't fall, Hunter gazed calmly at the man standing outside his quarters and tried to find a smile. One of his many Captains by the insignia on his chest, but not one considered important enough to warrant a personal meeting while he was meeting the rest of his command staff. Mismatched green eyes, one ghostly pale and the other vibrant and deep. Shortish hair, solid black except for a streak of white arching along the right side of his head. Hunter suspected there was a scar under the white hair since it was on the same side as his pale eye.  
'Captain Sword, sorry we didn't have a chance to talk earlier. But with our command structure in a mess, everyone is busy.' he offered, holding out a small crate. 'Here, a little gift from the men to say welcome to the 796th.'  
'That's kind of you, Sword. Thank you.' Hunter replied, accepting the crate and peeking inside.

Hunter was both shocked and humbled by the gifts arranged in the crate. Three bottles of fine Corellian whiskey, four boxes of sweets from across the galaxy and a pile of datasticks beside a well loved datapad.  
'Have you got time to talk now, Sword? I've spoken to several officers, getting their thoughts on the Corps and trying to work out where to start.' Hunter offered, trying not to phrase it as an order but he struggled with that.  
'That could take a while, Sir. You've already had a busy day, we can talk tomorrow after breakfast. I've finally earned a half-day rotation.' Sword grinned, scratching at his hair.  
'That sounds like a great idea. I need some time to readjust to being surrounded by so many men.' Hunter nodded, bracing the crate on his hip and lifting out the datapad.  
'That contains an abridged history of the 796th. Battle records, commendations, victories and losses and a memorial listing. The datasticks are full of music and holobooks that the men like and wanted to share.' Sword explained, setting a small medkit in the box. 'Take it from someone in the know, always carry extra medical supplies with you. You never know when you might need them.'  
'Thanks for the tip, Sword.' Hunter replied, returning the datapad to the crate. 'I'll have to remember to thank the lads for this.'  
'You'll be good for this Corps, Sir, I just hope you can see that.' Sword smiled, coming to attention. 'Well, goodnight Sir and welcome to the 796th.'  
'Goodnight Sword and thank you again.' Hunter grinned, reaching out to rest one hand on Sword's shoulder. 'But can we drop the formalities? I'm only three weeks into the rank and I miss the simpler times.'  
'Whatever I can do to help, Sir.' Sword nodded, squeezing Hunter's forearm lightly before turning and walking away.

Closing the door again, Hunter set the gifts under his desk for later and tugged off his bodysuit shirt. Tossing it into the washing bag in the corner, he padded over to his bunk and gazed at his reflection in the small panel near the bunk. He still looked a wreck, the burns on his face had settled into horrendous scars along his jaw and across his cheeks. He was just grateful that Reaper's mark was unharmed by all the scarring. Shutting off the lights and crawling onto his bunk, Hunter whispered his remembrances for his fallen Legion and snuggled down to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow would be better for him.


End file.
